


Yippie Ki-yay

by koinekid



Series: K18 Flash Fiction [6]
Category: Dragon Ball
Genre: Cosplay, Dress Up, F/M, Flirting, Laundry, Love, Married Couple, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-07
Updated: 2018-11-07
Packaged: 2019-08-20 01:23:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16546130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/koinekid/pseuds/koinekid
Summary: It's laundry day, and Eighteen has only one outfit left to wear. Cue the humiliation.





	Yippie Ki-yay

**Author's Note:**

> Rights to Dragonball and related properties are held by their respective owners. No infringement is implied or intended.

Eighteen winced at her reflection in the mirror. There must be something else to wear.

But she’d ransacked her closet and come up empty. A rambunctious five-year-old and a husband on late night shifts all month long left her little time to keep up with her housework. She’d simply put off laundry once too often and was left with only— _sigh_ —her western wear.

The fringes alone violated several laws of good taste. She was hardly a trendsetter these days, having exchanged high fashion for high chairs when their little chestnut came along, but if she stepped out of the house like this, her nosy neighbors would never let her hear the end of it. The boots were nice, though. She would have to work them into her regular rotation.

Eighteen didn’t know why she even kept the outfit after Chi-Chi returned it. Leaving it in a heap on the Sons’ bedroom floor when she trashed the place had been her way of tossing it out. But she accepted it with good grace and promptly shoved it into the back of her closet as soon as she arrived home. She meant to throw it out once again before the move from Kame House to Satan City, but Krillin must have packed it in one of the capsules.Technically, that made her fashion faux pas his fault.  _Hmm._

Emptying the contents of the bedroom hamper into a laundry basket, she crept into her daughter’s room to gather her dirty clothes. Eighteen’s heart melted as it ever did when she spied her little bundle of energy at rest, and she resisted the impulse to nuzzle her cheek. No need to disturb the little one’s slumber. She’d be chasing her around the house soon enough.

She was surprised to find Marron was the only one sleeping in the house. Krillin’s shift ended two hours ago, and she expected to find him sacked out on the couch, not sitting idly watching the morning news with a cup of coffee in front of him.

Eighteen missed his presence in their bed, but he insisted on sleeping downstairs while on night shift.  _Don’t want to wake my ladies_ , he said. She thought the sentiment silly until the night he bumped into their bedside table, and Marron screamed her head off in the next room, thinking there was an intruder. Turns out daddy’s little firefly was more disturbed by his recent absences than she let on.

Standing on the stairs, Eighteen balanced the basket against her hip. “Shouldn’t you be asleep?”

He looked at her and started to respond, only to pause. She had almost forgotten what she was wearing until she saw his mischievous smirk.  _Uh-oh._

“Howdy, buckaroo.”

She rolled her eyes. “You know I hate you right now.”

“That’s no way for a cowpoke to talk.”

“Your accent is terrible.” She descended the stairs and went about tidying up the living room, intent on ignoring him. If only it were that easy.

“Aw, little lady, you’re hurting my feelings.”

She bit back a retort about which one of them should be called  _little_. “Do you  _want_  to sleep downstairs tonight?”

“In the corral with them other varmints? Surely not, missy.”

“Krillin! I am warning you.” That warning was silenced by two arms encircling her waist and pulling her against a strong chest.

“I’d much rather sleep in the bunkhouse with you,” he murmured.

She swallowed hard, inexplicably fighting the blush creeping into her cheeks. “You—you keep this up, and I’ll have to…to brand you.”

“Already been branded.” He rubbed his forehead into her back.

“This’ll be a place only I can see.”

“Tell me more.”

No sooner had he released her than she dropped her laundry basket and whipped around, sending her garment’s fringe flying. She was on him, and they tumbled to the floor, all frantic hands and eager kisses. Apparently she’d been missing him in her bed even more than she realized.

Catching his breath, he nodded toward the stairs that led to their bedroom. “Bunkhouse?”

She grinned. “I’ll bring the lariat.”


End file.
